What a Big Liar
by katherine0413
Summary: Set in the trenches during WW1. Meet Kenneth and Terry. Ken is a WW1 soldier who is curious about Terry - a highly trained soldier who likes to keep everyone away. As they both enter No Man's Land, they soon find out that friendship matters.


**Author's Note: Just a quick reminder to review after you read. Anonymous reviews - both positive and negative - are accepted and will mostly be appreciated. Your reviews matter and will help me a lot for future stories. All characters are fictitious. **

**Enjoy!**

**Kat :3**

* * *

A raucous uproar initiated on the lonely meadow, annihilating everyone in sight. Impenetrable wall of smoke obstructed the only light I can perceive. Suddenly, the earth shook revealing a colossal and endless hole. The constant screaming aroused savage soldiers with their keen-edged bayonets ready for battle. They were all heading for me; asking for my death. My only chance of surviving was the hole; the endless hole with its piercing screams. The whole vicinity darkened covering the very walls of life. Without even knowing it, I, too, was screaming.

"Rise and shine, boys!" bawled the sergeant furiously. I jumped up gasping for as much air as I could possibly inhale. Beads of thick sweat were falling down my forehead. I slapped myself to awaken my confused soul; curiosity cloaked me.

I rapidly changed my clothes like a tardy child rushing to get ready for the first day of his big step to failure. I took my position climbing up on the creaky fire step forgetting about the traumatic experience that led me to believe that I was dead.

Soldiers were haphazardly firing their guns; pouring their anger out on the gloomy field; relieving the tension of dawn. Nobody could see nor tell an accurate perspective of what was happening. As my fellow men and me hoped for the end, light faintly grew in the always-foggy atmosphere.

A long deafening silence took over the continuous rattling of powerful grenades and roaring guns. Before I knew it, the 'stand to' was finished. Everybody was stunned, speechless. The continuous silence mocked me, threatening me to succumb into the hands of the enemy until the squeaky voices creeping in the thick mud below me broke my diverse thoughts.

"These freakin' rats annoy me so much. They eat almost anything!" ranted Terry as a band of rats came rushing through him like a stampede in the desert.

"How come rats reproduce so quickly?"

I shrugged.

"How come you don't know anything?"

I shrugged naively.

He grunted in reply.

Terry Matthews was the most skilled fighter in our camp, the toughest of them all. Everybody was aghast that he didn't become our sergeant. He's been here longer than anyone has. He has more knowledge about the dreaded trenches than anyone has. He has more experience than anyone of us has. He has more courage than anyone has. However…

"Aaargh!" groaned Terry whilst he smacked the helpless yet sadistic rodents one by one with his mud-covered rifle.

…Terry has a bit of a temper. Well, who can blame him? Besides us, vicious rats also exist in this hellhole, increasing the risks of diseases, stealing our foods, and being much of a bother to everyone.

There are two types of rats meandering around this cemetery. There is the ferocious brown rat and the vile black rat. The latter is the most despised; the most feared out of the two. They gorge into loathing corpses turning them into cat-size monsters. Nobody can stop them; not even us who took away the lives of innocent young soldiers from the other side.

The trenches weren't the safest place to be in. The heavy rain turns rigid soil into susceptible mud. The trenches would most likely collapse adding the risk of danger to those surrounding it – us.

Winter approached quicker than expected but lasted longer than summer. Ices were rapidly building up everywhere as soon as snowfall hits the trenches. The freezing cold weather often makes you think that you are dead; they were like piercing needles. Even our fighting spirits that kept us alive for the past few years were taken away along with the warmth of the sun. The only thing that keeps us heated up was our hasty movements during battle.

"H-hey Kenneth." Roger greeted stiffly.

"Oh. Hi Roger. Looking pretty good today."

"Th-Thanks. W-Whoa!"

Splash of mud splattered on our faces as laughter overcame the awkward silence. Roger's glowing gelled hair was messed and his huge spectacles were enveloped with coagulated mud. His thin and weak arms weren't able to lift the heavy buckets filled with water. He was still a rookie just like me.

Depressing clouds never seemed to go away. _Sigh_. As I gazed at the blank sky, I thought to myself, "How will this pointless war end?"

Movement was logically restricted whether it was subtle or obvious in the unbearable trenches. Though it may seem a lot was going on in here, nobody was allowed to make abrupt movements due to snipers or lookouts with their magnifying eyes constantly keeping an eye on every thing that was going on. In result, boredom was our new best friend.

"Hey, Terry. What are you planning to do after you finish all your chores? I was planning to read my letters. It has been a while since I replied to my mother. I need to get back to her or else."

"Tsk. Letters! Who needs them?" he answered with extreme anger.

"Oooh…I got a letter. Exciting isn't it!?" he continued sarcastically slowly grasping my neck with tremendous force.

"What is so important about it!? We are all going to die anyway so why do they bother asking if we are doing fine when clearly we are not!"

He left pushing me, causing me to fall into bizarreness. _Why is he so bothered about getting letters?_

"K-Kenneth. A-are you a-alright?" Roger asked pulling me back to reality.

"Y-Yeah. Thanks."

"W-Why d-do you a-always t-talk to T-Terry? W-We all k-know h-he is u-unapproachable." Roger has a point. _Why?..._

"I don't know. I feel like he's hiding something."

_WHY? _I stared at the blank sky asking myself repeatedly.

As I was draining the trenches, I heard two soldiers carelessly gossiping about Terry. From where I am, I could almost hear what they were saying. The intriguing conversation blocked my thoughts. The unusual words echoed in my mind. _Terry doesn't receive any letters. _That explained his intriguing behaviour earlier. _Terry doesn't receive any letters._

Hearing those words made me feel awful, yet grateful for still having letters. I went back inside to read my letters; hesitantly opening it, cherishing every moment. The letter was like a switch turning on the lights inside my head. Slowly hearing the ripping noise of the envelope made me recall memories, memories about the times back home. The times when my family and I blissfully ate the Christmas turkey, the scented aroma of rosemary and thyme lingering, tickling my nose. As I felt the tattered texture of the paper, I thought, _Mum, don't cry. I'll be back home soon._

26th December 1916

34 Bank Road

Liverpool

My dear son, Kenneth,

How have you been? It's been six months since you send your last letter. Everything's fine around here. Your baby sister talks now. She says "Mama" and "Dada" more often. If you're asking about your father, well, don't bother about it. He's busy at the pubs drinking his heart out. If only you were here. You can stop him from getting ill. Christmas was lonely without you. All the fun and excitement of that special event was gone too. We all miss the way you handed out our gifts with your big smile that melted every girl's heart. My favourite time of the year and you were not there. Please come back soon. We miss you a lot.

Love,

Mum & Family

Droplets of sincere tears fell from my eyes smudging the ink of the carefully written words that warmed my heart. I took a paper and pen and began to write back with heartfelt words.

28th December 1916

Dear mother,

Don't worry about me too much. I'm doing fine here. My feet hurt a lot but we are taken good care of by the doctors who are very skilled at what they do. The sun shines a lot here too just like there back at home. You feel like it's not even winter. There is no sight of snow or ice building up in the trenches. We get big coats to keep us warm. It's good that

"Position, boys!" ordered the sergeant.

The loud command awakened my soul adding fear and excitement to my hopelessly confused emotions. I left abandoning my letter, going outside and facing the danger. The horrifying stench appalled me; I guess I'm still not used to the atrocious reek of corpses. It got worse day by day as the number of deaths rose higher than the number of experienced soldiers battling.

"Hurry up, rookies!" repeated the commander. The judgement was told. It was finally time to enter the most feared land in the whole world: No Man's Land.

Terror struck faster than lightning shocking the dull meadow. Men rushed from both sides with their sharp bayonets attached to their mud-covered rifles shouting with fright or glory entering the opaque hazy battlefields. Stabbing anyone in sight eager to escape the chaotic madness whether it was an enemy or an ally, soldiers quickly diminished in the darkness with both smiles and agony on their faces. Adrenaline rushed through our veins. My heartbeat syncopated with the relentless noise of guns. Flashing lights illuminated patches of areas in No Man's Land continuously appearing from nowhere. The ear-splitting thunderous sounds of grenades alarmed everybody. Evading from death I end up confronting it.

I was thunderstruck. Holes were prone to gas attacks, the most common cause of deaths of soldiers, rookies or experienced ones. The gaping hole was crammed with (dozens? hundreds? or were it thousands?) corpses. I could feel the smooth icy texture of the mud mixed with both blood and ice. It was ghastly. Being able to see corpses up close was the last thing you want to see before you die. I was filled with extreme terror. My gritty hands were trembling. I put my rubber gas mask on terrified that I would be the next victim of the grim horror worse than being beheaded; the slow torture of toxic gas.

The piercing potent blasting suddenly ceased. Had it really stopped? Was I going deaf? It was hard to tell.

The tough rubbery texture of the gas mask cautiously touched my rough core skin. My continuous heavy breathing tortured me. The tense ambience was intimidating. The severe strength of the wind blowing the smoke, the stench, everything, took over my grim breathing. I could hear the thin branches whispering to each other. It killed me second by second. I couldn't take it anymore. I was going mad. Unforeseen, a streak of yellow smoke silently filled the deep hole in less than an instant. A small whiff of that venomous gas and it is hello to Death.

Gazing into the murky atmosphere, unaware of my surroundings, I wondered, "How long have I been here in this hole?" "Exactly, how long have I been here 'fighting for my country'?" It's more like 'fighting for my life'. Nobody – and I mean nobody – knows how long we have been here in the battlefields. It seems like the days aren't passing by, same routine day by day. We have no idea what is happening back home only from the letters sent by our loved ones; the relevant information are fewer than expected. _Sigh_. I exhaled noisily as the mustard gas slowly cleared. I was intercepted by a piercing cry of pain asking for help.

_Who was it?_ I tried to find out where it was coming from. Was it from below, under the corpses? or was it just me? I looked around, carefully observing my environment. Then just then, I saw Terry.

Blood was gushing out of every inch of his slit body. Different wounds were all over his muddy face, varying from big to small. His once sturdy fingers were gone along with the whole of his left arm. Both of his big strong legs were replaced with a pool of thick red blood. It was a horrifying sight. His strong masculine frame was shaken. He definitely appeared vulnerable. I tried to mitigate the incurable wounds but it was hopeless. There was no stop to it. The hoarse wheezing made me realise that it was undeniably too late. He had already inhaled the scent of death.

I didn't know what to do. I absolutely didn't sign up for this. I was never a doctor. That is why I became a soldier. The whole thing reminded me of my dream before. Unexpectedly, Terry started mumbling. He was clearly trying to say something. Then, words finally came out of his mouth.

"H-Hey, Kenneth. I-I didn't e-expect t-to s-see you h-here." He blurted.

"I should be the one saying that."

"I-I'm l-lucky a-aren't I-I? I-I c-can r-relax now."

"Yeah. You certainly are."

With my gas mask on, he had no clue of the terror painted in my face. However, I knew that the tone of my voice gave it all away.

"I-I'm h-happy n-now. M-My f-family is h-happy n-now, t-they finally g-got w-what t-they w-wanted. S-Serves me r-right they'll s-say. T-Too b-bad t-they didn't s-see it for t-themselves." He coughed. Blood was coming out of his mouth.

_What the hell is he talking about?_

After a minute, his sore eyes stopped moving. His heavy breathing slowed down then it ceased. His pulse was gone.

I grimaced with horror. The sickening image of him was tattooed in my mind. It made me shiver. I took a deep breath thinking I, too, was going to die. It was hopeless. I had been here in this hole long enough for me to know that I, too, had the same fate; the same terrible ending. Slowly, my eyesight began to blur. I started to feel dizzy like being poisoned. I removed my gas mask thinking, _"What's the point in wearing this?" _I felt my body rise as if I was levitating. _Goodbye, mother and father. I'm sorry I didn't get the chance to reply to your letter._

The creaky filthy ceiling was the first thing I saw. _Does heaven really look like this?_ I looked around observing my surroundings. This wasn't heaven. I was back in the trenches. Were the things that happened to me all just a dream? I got up and searched for my letter. My body hurt.

"W-Whoa, K-Kenneth. D-Don't m-move y-yet." It was Roger.

"Where's Terry?" I asked

"D-Didn't y-you k-know a-already? H-He d-died. H-He w-was w-with y-you right?"

So it wasn't a dream.

"O-Oh! b-by the w-way! I-I f-found t-this h-hidden u-under your b-bed." He showed me a copper-coloured box.

"What is it?"

"I-I a-actually d-don't know. I-I n-never l-looked at i-it." He left leaving me with the box and my curiosity.

I opened it. The box contained letters; letters addressed to Terry, stained letters that were dated from 1914 up until the 26th August 1916 unopened and untouched. I laughed as tears poured down my face leaving a mark on the mahogany envelopes. _What a big liar._


End file.
